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She glances down at me and lifts her goggles. Her grin is wide — way too wide — and I flinch. She sees and smirks, “Echo, you look like hell. Want us to take you back to Trash City for some much-needed medical attention?”
“Your gifts, Omega — bring the river,” the Berserker’s low brogue commands.
I gasp, too distracted by the command he just gave me to turn Merlin’s words over for a second and third and thirtieth consideration. I grip the soil beneath me with my left hand, squeezing the fingers of my right limp arm into a fist against my chest. My eyelids flutter. I feel a cool wind cover my body that carries the cries of dying Alphas on its wings.
“Holy fuck! There’s awave!”A wave? How lovely. I wish I could see it…
Iterations of the same thing rise up, but Merlin’s voice cuts through them.“You lied to me, Echo!” Merlin shouts. “Youdohave Omega gifts.”
I’m prepared to fucking rail at her given the day I’ve had — the night, the past six weeks — but am cut short. She swings her gun around, leaving me looking straight up the barrel. She shifts just a little and then, without warning, pulls the trigger.
“No!”The Berserker roars.
I choke on my tongue when the bullet pierces my already injured right shoulder, triggering thoughts of suicide and of homicide in tandem. I’ve never wanted to hurt a Beta before but right now, I’d like nothing more than five minutes alone with Merlin. And a machete.
I scream through clenched teeth while, above me, she cocks her handgun’s hammer and trains the killing end on my forehead like murdering me in the cold open here, right now, might not faze her at all. Then she confirms it when she says, “Next one is through her skull, Berserker. Now tell her to quit it with the river and the rest of her powers.”
“Omega, stop. Do what she says,” he says, though it sounds like Pain might have made a new friend in him, too. Still, he might be her new friend, but I’m herbestfriend. Right now, she’s dug a trench just for me and she’s filled it with all kinds of sharp and cutting things…and I’ve hit every one on my way to the bottom.
I exhale and my back settles against the ground, sinking into the wetness. I can feel mud against my wounds. Merlin’s smiling down at me, shaking her head softly, but at least she’s got her gun trained on my forehead instead of any other part of me that will actually hurt to get hit.
“You ready to come back to Trash City, Echo? This time, I promise we’ll give you the deluxe suite.”
“Do it,” I whisper, glancing at the gun, “just end it.”
The Berserker roars and my vision fades. I try not to give him the satisfaction of hearing how fucking badly he’s beaten me, so I bite through it…and black out again. When I come to, Merlin’s face is covered in her mask and her goggles and she’s crouching down at my side.
“You know, I think your Berserker mightactuallybe into you.” The Berserker snarls in the background, voice sounding somewhere between animal and man. Merlin grins wider. “That’s bad news for you. And that’sreallybad news for him.”
4 | Echo
Trash City
My chains rattle against the wall when I pull on them with my one good arm.They rattle against the floor when I kick with my one good foot. I’ve been in this room for what feels like a week, long enough for my adrenaline to crash and the sleep deprivation and freezing chill from trudging all night through the woods to crash with it.
I’m shaking violently now and, even though only one of my hands is bound, I can’t use the other to get away. It’s swollen beyond recognition, hanging like an angry stump against my chest, weighing me down.
Pain needles at the edges of my eyes, pricking at them with her sharpened talons, wanting me to cry, delighting in my slow capitulation. My arm hurts so fucking bad and I know that if the door doesn’t open soon, I’m going to die here, sitting on a mattress on the floor in a room made of trash, chained to a wall made of trash, all alone in Trash City.
I’d been prepared to off myself earlier, but I don’t want to die now. Then, dying felt like it was on my terms. Now, dying’s on theirs — the Berserker’s and Merlin’s. It’s also going tohurt. Fire and brimstone and all that dark, delirious shit. A nightmare of pain from which I won’t ever wake.
Red fever and black dreams dig into my brain, find my ability to reason, and sever it. I’m wavering back and forth, pulling at my restraints until my skin chafes raw, incapable of giving up even though it’s only making Pain giggle louder from her position in the corner.
Maybe, if I pull hard enough, I’ll break my remaining arm. Maybe, if I break it, the bone will stab through and I’ll bleed out. I pull with my entire bodyweight and even though it hurts like a mother, I can’t…I just can’t hurt myself anymore. Not even to end it. Not without theguaranteeof ending it.
I make a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a screech as I sink down against the mattress. There’s no pillow so my neck is cricked up against the wall, some piece of hard plastic jutting out like a fist and digging into the back of my head. I feel like throwing up. I think I might feel better if I throw up, but I can’t do that either. Seems like the only thing that isn’t soggy wet in this room right now is my throat, and that’s bone dry.
“Merrrlinnn,”I croak at the top of my lungs. I need water. I’d give my left tit for a glass of water. I’d give a lot more than that for some pain killers. “Merlin!”
The door explodes open and ricochets against the wall, loosing a few pieces of trash and sending them dribbling pitifully to the floor in a pile of charred plastic and cardboard. He’s there. Here. In the small room with me.
And he’s not in chains. And that can only mean one thing.
“Merlin, you bitch!” I jerk harder against my restraints and his stoic face floods with color. His lips bristle and he storms forward, and I notice that somehow, by some magical fucking feat, he’s acquired a pair of black cargo pants that don’t even have any holes in themandthe bastard has boots on his giant feet.
He drops down onto one knee beside me and rips the chain out of the wall. He has no problem touching me freely and his hands immediately drop to my waist and the back of my head. He pulls me fully onto the mattress so that I’m out of my awkward crick-necked position and lying flat.
He looks over his shoulder, dirty tendrils of his hair sticking to his chest. He’s still wet and sweaty and covered in blood butcompletelyhealed from all of his injuries. I hate his guts. I hate all their guts.
